Have I Ever Told You
by bearsbeetsbattlestargalactica
Summary: When worst came to worst, Annabeth Chase searched for a way to get lost, to forget about the world - even if it meant hitting rock-bottom.
**A/N: Alright, so this is a little different from my typical short stories. This is a collection of poems told in story format - poems strung together to form a plot line, inspired by Ellen Hopkins's** ** _Crank._** **I hope you all enjoy, and please review and let my know what you think!**

 **Rating: T**

 **Disclaimer: The image isn't mine, I don't own Percy Jackson, and I don't own** ** _Crank_** **, either. As long as we've got that cleared up.**

 **Note: To anyone who might feel uncomfortable about the subject matter of drug usage: this story does include drugs. Be forewarned.**

* * *

 **Lost My Mind**

Have I ever told you

about the time I lost my mind

let it spiral free, out of control

loose and lascivious

promiscuous ribbons of rouge rage

spring magnolia blossoms

tossed on the wind, juices dribbling

over the pavement, sinking

into the cracks, watering

the weedy invaders: dandelions

and thorny thistles, poor bare feet.

Truth is, I'm not even sure what

I'm writing about anymore

so I guess I had better just ask:

Have I ever told you

about the time I lost my mind

because I've forgotten

my memories have liberated

themselves, finally set free

can you recall what happened

to me

and solve the everlasting

mystery?

 **Body and Soul**

They say poetry is a good way

to let your feelings flow

seeping out of your pores like sweat

it's very therapeutic, you know

but see, here's the thing

I'm afraid my problem

can't simply be solved

with simple words in simple columns

my story is long and heartbreaking

heart-wrenching, to be honest

enough to make you want to cry

I know I have, oh God why

this is a story of poems

or perhaps it's a poem of stories

either way

I've gone completely crazy, lost it

might as well just accept my new career

as the Central Park bag lady

but for now I might as well

cleanse my body and soul

just like the yogis say

after all what have I got

to lose, everything's been taken

already: morals malleable as clay

body and soul dirty as soot

coating the insides of a chimney

so let me write this story of poems

or perhaps poem of stories

not for me, nope, no sirree

but for my poor, battered body

and soul

 **It All Started When**

I met a boy, cliché, I know

couldn't even be original, had to

pull from the book of been there,

done that, laughing all the while

but it's true, I thought he was different

dark hair, pirate smile

eyes like a Heineken bottle

I guess that's a weird way

to describe your lover's eyes

beer-bottle-green, doesn't it just

make you cream yourself?

sorry if I've scandalized you

but you see, there are things

to be upset about, outraged about

and there are things to take

with a grain of fucking salt

and this is simply the latter

(as most things are, like it or not)

so just deal with his Heineken

bottle eyes, because despite

what I may have led you to believe

they were really quite something to see

turned my life upside down

that was it for me

 **His Name Was Percy**

and he was eighteen years old, a year older than me

it wasn't that he was a bad boy, even though he was

or that he smoked cigarettes, even though he did

it wasn't that he was a rebel, even though he was

or that he had this way of smiling lopsidedly, even though he did

it was the way he looked at me

the way he said my name

 _An-na-be-th_

rolled it languidly on his tongue, let it linger on his lips

oh he was bad boy perfection all right, but in the best ways

he didn't own a motorcycle or wear a leather jacket

he simply didn't give a fuck about what other people thought

God what I would give to have the spectacular talent

of hoisting my fist high up into the air, knuckles white

and raising my middle finger to God, to the world, to everyone

God what I wouldn't give to be him

 **But I Wasn't Him**

I was Annabeth Chase, resident good girl, polar opposite

two shoes dangling from my fingers, cold and limp, like a wet noodle

I got good grades, played on the soccer team, golden girl

all around, best friend since kindergarten by the name

of Thalia Grace, best friend to have, because she

brought out the best in me, not that there was much of that X-factor 'best'

to bring out, the sad, sad truth

because here's the thing I've learned: only lies are beautiful

the truth has an undeniable way of being ugly as the boil on the ass of society

 **Thalia, Punk Rock Chick, Blondie 2.0**

She was everything I was not: adventurous

and outgoing, singularly brilliant, not just

book smart, but people smart, too

spiky hair and blue eyes that sliced through you

like lightning, electrocuting, sizzling

Death to Barbie t-shirts and leather wristcuffs

opposites attract, or so the saying goes

and with Thalia that saying was certainly true

not a single doubt in my mind

 **We Were Best Friends Since**

kindergarten, or did I say that already? How stupid,

you'll have to excuse me, I'm a little scatterbrained today,

but anyway, Thalia and I met on a threadbare circle rug

reading Dr. Seuss together, bonding over red fish, blue fish

and green eggs and ham, though I always thought

those books were stupid, I mean there was no

periwinkle fish, which was my favorite color

until I was sixteen years old and looked into _his_ eyes

for the very first time, tsk-tsk-tsk,

changed by a boy, Annabeth? Deserting your morals

already, well I guess that's true, but wasn't

I the one that said morals were malleable as clay?

anyway, friendships forged like that, over dried Elmer's glue

endless games of memory, and plastic kazoos

are the kind of friendships that last forever

or at least they do until one party (me)

decides to fall for a bad boy and offer herself

into the world of drugs and smoke and hazy dreams (oops)

 **Yes, It's True**

it was drugs that shoved Thalia

and I apart, drove a thick wedge

in-between us, because Thalia's mother,

her name was Beryl, 80s TV star with big hair

turned single alcoholic mom in the 2000s,

had a substance abuse problem too.

It had driven her son, Thalia's brother

into the American foster care system

and Thalia, poor Thalia, had never quite forgiven

Beryl for her missteps, and looking at me

strung out and high, lost to the world

riding a cloud up somewhere in the sky

she said, "How could you?"

I replied, "It was easy."

and I guess it's easy to lose friends, too, because

that's exactly what I did, but I was too

lost in the world of prescription pills

to notice until I came back to the world

of the living, but that was later, too late,

and then all I could do

was cry and cry and cry and pop

a few more from the orange bottle

because as it turns out, pills

are an effective way to ignore

your problems

 **But In All Fairness,**

it wasn't just Percy that led me astray.

I had a real shit storm of a life,

even before he ever looked my way.

My mom died in childbirth, I guess

I was just a little too much for her to handle.

My father never wanted a daughter, and

I always thought he blamed me

for Mom's death, even though

it wasn't my fault, but that's not

always how life works. Oh, yeah, Dad

decided to effectively ignore me, but

he didn't go to pills, he went to books.

That's right! Dear old Dad is a professor

of knowledge, practically ripping a page

out of old Stephen Hawking's book.

And when he married Carol, well,

that's about when shit really hit the fan.

My stepmother hated me too, oh

at my house it was a real hate-Annabeth-fest.

So, to recap: dead mother, absentee father,

bitchy stepmother, excuse me, is this

something out of a Grimm brothers story?

It wasn't, sadly, because he was no

Prince Charming, as I'm pretty sure

the prince never popped Cinderella some pills

behind the school, leaning against a rusty, supersized dumpster.

 **But It Wasn't Just My Family,**

it was Luke Castellan, too.

God, I really loved him, ever since

I was a little kid. It was me and Thalia

and Luke, all of us together, and I couldn't

help falling in love with him, blonde-haired

and hapless, his father dead, too. It was a lot to

have in common, both of us with a parent dead before

our seventh birthdays (Luke told me his died when he was

six). And of course Luke's mom was crazy, he had a crappier

life than me, and I sure set the bar high. Why, did I ever tell you

about the time I ran away from home, packed my bags and just left,

goodbye? I came back a few weeks later, when the police hauled me home,

earned a smack across the cheek that resonated for miles around. But back to the

story, it was Luke that sent me over the edge. I really loved him, but as it turned out, Thalia

loved him too. And it was her right, why shouldn't she? Free country and all. But

as it turned out, Luke liked her back. They got together in spring of junior year,

and all of a sudden it was just too much. They were kissing at the lunch table,

completely oblivious. I went outside, excused myself, got some air in back,

where all the stoners hung out. I never knew then that that was beginning

my downfall, starting to tumble down the rabbit hole, like poor Alice

in Wonderland, because guess what? I was in Wonderland, too,

lost in a land of red queens and mad hatters, only mine

looked a little bit different, set in the halls of high

school, because now that I think about it, the

only similarity between Alice and I

was the truly unfortunate fact

that we both lost our mind.

 **Grover**

It was him I saw first, Grover Satyr, who names their

kid names that ended in the same sound, 'er' and 'er'?

He was wearing a striped Rasta hat, old-school Bob Marley,

tendrils of peach fuzz poking out of the knit cap.

He offered me a bit of pot, just so long as I was willing to pay,

I hurriedly raised my hands and said no, thanks anyway.

At this point, I hadn't lost myself yet, I was still the same old

Annabeth, but it was only a matter of time, because around then

I spotted Grover's bestest buddy, his old elementary school pal,

Percy Jackson, the boy with the Heineken eyes, who gave me a smile,

parted his lips, mouthed, _get over here_ , and pulled me in with one

hypnotic gaze, because that was right about the time that I lost

myself, heartbroken over Luke and Thalia and Mom and Dad and Carol,

and so I let myself be reeled in like a fat, lazy fish.

 **Charmer**

He was a charmer, Percy,

daredevil smile, and from that

moment, he was all mine, all mine.

He asked me my name, I said

it was Annabeth, he said

why that's a pretty name,

and introduced himself as Percy,

Percy Jackson, just like Forrest,

Forrest Gump. We hit it off

right away, which was strange, really,

because we'd never been involved

too much in the past. We passed

each other in the hallways without

so much as a second glance.

Losing your mind makes you

notice funny things: how the sunlight

falls, dappled rays spreading

across earth, leaking into the loamy soil,

and how handsome boys

you'd never noticed before

have a peculiar way of pronouncing

your beautiful, beautiful name.

I was his, from that moment.

He asked me if I was in to drugs,

I said no. He asked why not.

I said, "I don't know. I'm just not interested."

He said, "Goody-two-shoes, then?"

I said, "I'm not a goody-two-shoes."

He said, "Just try it. C'mon."

But I wasn't about to fall for it.

I knew, after all, what to do

when the dilemma of peer pressure

came up. "I have no interest in drugs."

"Really? Hmm."

"Why are you making that noise?"

"What noise?"

"That noise. _Hmm_."

"Because you look like a girl who wants

to get lost, that's why."

"I do want to get lost," I said, struck

that he seemed to know me so well.

"That's why I take drugs," he informed me.

"It's a wonderful way to get lost. Just one pill."

"Just one pill," I repeated, still dubious.

"Just one pill," he affirmed. "If it's not

for you, then you can just walk away.

No strings attached."

Of course, I wasn't stupid – I'd been

to health class, knew what drugs did

to your brain, made them a fucked-up picture

of complete and utter disarray.

But right then, I wasn't thinking about

safe sex and condoms slid onto a banana,

about brain diagrams and druggie horror stories.

I asked, "How much?"

He said, "How much for what?"

I said, "How much for a few pills?"

He said, "Here." And reached into his pocket

and pulled out a little orange bottle

that made a sound like a baby rattle

when he shook it, _shake-a shake-a._

"First one's free, on me. Take them

and let me know if they change your life."

And so I did, popped it in my mouth.

 **High**

It didn't kick in right away, it took an hour or two.

But from that moment, he was right.

My life changed forever.

My senses were amplified, my brain on overdrive.

It was nothing like I'd ever experienced.

It was beautiful, losing myself in the symphony.

Percy was right: drugs are an easy way to lose yourself.

Pills before your problems, pills before your problems.

Teachers asked if I was alright, I just smiled nice and bright.

It took a while to wear off.

Too tired to catch the bus, I crashed underneath the bleachers.

The ones in the football stadium, that is.

I woke up feeling groggy, like shit.

I had just made it over my first high.

I didn't like my first low.

All I wanted was to do it again.

 **I Was A Smart Girl,**

or used to be, anyway. See, here's the thing:

I was a straight-A student. But not for the right

reasons. I wanted the 4.0 on my college apps,

I didn't relish working hard. I'd always stressed

over every little thing. It was sickeningly easy

to just let go, oblivion welcome. It was sickeningly easy

to finally be loose and free. It was sickeningly easy

to ignore the funny brain drawings in health. It was sickeningly easy

to push aside the facts. To push aside the real me.

 **The Real Me**

What a funny concept, I can honestly say I haven't the faintest idea

Who that is anymore, the real me, God, can you believe it, the real me,

Who even dreamt up such a concept? If there was ever such a person,

A real Annabeth Chase, with hopes and dreams and a real personality,

It had disappeared with the drugs, eked out slowly with the ever-escalating highs.

There is no real me, not anymore. I'm lost on a drug-induced journey

To Neverland, second star on the right and straight on 'til morning.

The Real Me. I almost wish there was one, a real Annabeth Chase, someone other

Than the pills and the drugs, someone who could give me a helping hand

And bring me back to the world, bring me back to me.

 **College Funds Put to Good Use**

I had saved up some money – for college, originally, but now, who gave a fuck about college? Certainly not me. So I went to the bank, got it all refunded, in cash, and stuffed it in my piggy bank. The next day, instead of going to lunch, I went around the school, to the dumpers, where Rasta Grover and all the other stoners were busy getting buzzed, passing around a brown paper bag with some sort of bottle stuffed inside and miscellaneous plastic Ziplocs. I went straight to Percy, who gave me that knee-melting smile, and asked him how much for some more. He smiled. I was in the druggie clan now, a part of their system. Good-bye, Luke. Goodbye, Thalia. I had new friends now.

 **Dialogue**

"How much for some more pills?"

"Back already?"

"Yeah. Now how much?"

"So, I guess the drugs changed your life, huh? Just like I said they would."

"How much, Percy?"

"Getting ornery. It's an amount."

"I can pay it, whatever it is."

"You really liked the pills, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I really liked them."

"They're a good way to forget, aren't they?"

"…Yeah. They're a good way to forget."

 **New Life**

That became my new life, a haze

of pill-popping and wasting away

my ever-decreasing funds. My grades

slipped, teachers wanted to know just

what I was doing, because they knew

the signs of a recently-converted druggie,

of course, it wasn't their first day. I didn't

know what to tell them, aside from the truth,

and that certainly wasn't an option. So

I just stared at the wall while they asked

why I had gotten a D- on a test

in my best subject, why I had suddenly quit

the soccer team. I didn't have the heart

to tell them that I was gone now, that soccer

just wasn't as important as getting more pills.

 **My Family Didn't Even Notice,**

and that's maybe the worst part. Thalia

ended our friendship with a wounded look

lingering in her electric eyes, Luke shooting me

a glare over his shoulder as they walked away,

hand-in-hand, tears streaming down my former

best friends' cheeks. But Dad, Carol, my stepbrothers

Bobby and Matthew? Not a chance. They were

completely oblivious as I experimented with new drugs

that Percy offered me, as I let myself drown

in a haze of pharmaceuticals and psychedelia.

My family didn't even notice.

You know what? I take it back. That is the worst part.

 **Loverboy**

So I guess by now you're wondering whatever happened

to Percy, because at the beginning of this poem of stories,

or story of poems, I called him my lover. And I guess that's

true, in a way. Somewhere along the strand of hazy afternoons, he flashed

me a smile, grabbed my hand, both of us grinning like loons,

as only strong, strong drugs can make you do, and brought me

underneath the bleachers. We both made love, both of us

on a high, and I can honestly say sex with him is one

of the only good things about that time, because God

I think I might've really loved him, sick as it is. Maybe

in a different world, things would have turned out okay,

maybe, in a different world, we could have been happy together,

neither of us relying on drugs just to get through our day.

As it was, we snuck under the bleachers regularly, hiding

in plain sight, and I gave myself to him over and over again,

the last remnant of old, prudish Annabeth disappearing overnight.

 **Now You Know**

how lost I was, how completely I'd lost my mind.

Now you know how foolish I was, sex and drugs

like some 1970s pop star. Now you know how

I'd descended in a perfect storm of turmoil, made myself

vulnerable to the worst of outcomes. Now you know.

Now you know.

 **Rachel Elizabeth Dare**

It was Rachel Elizabeth Dare that brought me to rock bottom,

brought me to where I am today. It wasn't that I had anything

against her personally. She was an artist, one that used drugs

to get a vision for her new painting. Red, curly hair, freckles,

paint-spotted-everything. The inside of her vagina is probably

even speckled with metallic gold spray paint. But anyway, I saw

her kissing Percy, shoved against the brick wall, his hand

right up her tacky, polka-dotted bra, her face a picture

of perfect ecstasy, and not the kind that looked like a pill.

I just stood there, stock still, jaw hanging slightly ajar.

But neither of them noticed me. They were both too lost

in their own sort of euphoria. Tears sprung to my eyes, and I

left, left school right there in the middle of the day. I just

started running, around the block, feet pounding on the pavement.

Wind whipped my face, my hair a wild vortex of insanity.

I had lost it, completely and totally gone insane. I no longer remembered

what it was to be happy and safe and ordinary, with a slightly

crappy life, but with two best friends that would be there for me,

if only, if only, if only, I'd let them. If only. If only. If only.

But now I was lost and confused and afraid, having ostracized

everybody that mattered. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

I clearly meant nothing to Percy, even though he meant everything

to me. It was stupid, to let him get to me, but my defenses

had been worn so weak, my heart crushed twice within the span of a month,

that I couldn't help it. I was done, finished. In the end, I was strong

as flimsy wrapping paper. If only, if only, if only.

 **Park**

I found myself in a park, a really beautiful place,

thick-trunked oak trees and grass like a St. Patrick's Day Parade.

Bunches of Queen Anne's Lace crouched by the sidewalk,

more organized patches of plum-colored petunias and

heart-shaped daisies, petals fluttering in the wind. It was spring,

so the magnolia tree was in full bloom, big pink flowers

swaying, dangling off of brown branches, low-hanging fruit.

A little girl with dark hair had tucked one behind her ear.

I went

and laid

down beneath

the magnolia

tree.

 **And Then**

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the pills, swallowing all of them in quick succession.

Every single one. And here's the point where I could describe it as I'm scribbling

wildly in this composition notebook, but I don't really see the point.

Because that moment? That moment where I took all the pills? It's happening right now.

The drugs are beginning to set in, and just in the nick of time, because I've finished

my poem of stories, or perhaps my story of poems. We're coming to the end of my tale.

This is more pills than I've ever taken, more pills than I think I'm supposed to take.

But that's alright, because I find it easier to not worry about it, to just let go. To be free.

 **Untitled**

I close my eyes

and drift away

into everlasting sleep

if it's one thing

you've learned

from my poem

don't ever waste

yourself on pills

face your problems

don't end up

like me

shh, shh, be quiet now

I'm trying to go to sle-

* * *

 **A/N: So? What did you think?**


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